


Oops.

by Lollipopsickle



Series: Crobby Flash Fiction [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cliche, Crowley regrets nothing, Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Gen, Laundry, M/M, trope, uh set after season 6 or something like that?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-17 22:43:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2325860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lollipopsickle/pseuds/Lollipopsickle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Well that was embarrassing. If, you know, Crowley ever felt embarrassment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oops.

**Author's Note:**

> An assignment from my creative writing class that I specifically chose to tie in a bit Crobby for one of my friends. I think the assignment was a flash fiction or something, where the time length to write and the length of the story was limited.  
> Also includes terrible tropes that I'm not sorry in the least for writing.

Well that was embarrassing. If, you know, Crowley ever felt embarrassment. Crossroads Demon and all around bad-ass Scottish bloke, Crowley didn't feel embarrassment. Regret however, was a given. He wished he hadn't sold his soul back in the middle ages, those extra three inches weren't worth it. Becoming a demon in the 1600's though? That was awesome. Causing havoc for centuries, screwing with God and Lucifer's plans, it was all just what he did when he was bored. Destroying his own kind, that was only when they made him angry.

 

That hunter's little angel boyfriend, Castiel? Well it was just plain fun to watch him struggle. The Winchesters though, wow did he regret messing with them. Getting killed twice was just the tip of the crumbly iceberg of plans he lay that they tore to ribbons. At least his Hellhound got fed though.

 

Back to embarrassment. The closest Crowley ever felt was regret. Which now wasn't often now that he was living the regular salted-pie and wooden-stakes life with Robert Singer. He did regret washing that load of whites, only to find out his red shirt got mixed up in there as well. What kind of torturer gets taken seriously in a pink apron? A surprise visit from the cackling Winchester Boys was just the icing on the cake. Until Bobby came into the room in his now pink undershirt and pink boxers. That shut their traps with a rather satisfying clack.


End file.
